


Bare Skin

by serpentinne



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Joker (2019)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Immigration & Emigration, Older Man/Younger Woman
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-10-01 00:01:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20455739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serpentinne/pseuds/serpentinne
Summary: In the early 1990s, an Armenian girl arrives in Gotham and meets the scariest clown in town.A series of one-shots originally posted to Tumblr. May become part of a larger story.





	1. Joey's

She left the stale coolness of the bowling alley for the warm dampness of the spring evening. The scent of the year’s first blooms hung heavy in the air as she started her trekk to the bus stop, her shoulders hunched. The light wind whispered past her. And then it did so again.

And then it sighed.

She whipped around to see a brightly suited figure standing at the edge of the alley across the street. It was him; for real this time. She’d mistaken others for him several times in the year since they’d last met, only to be disappointed when they turned around and weren’t a grown man in clown makeup.

“About time you heard me,” he said as she slipped into the alley and crossed her arms before squaring up to face him.

“Sorry. Do I know you?”

The Joker chuckled, “Come on. Don’t be mad, doll. I’ve had to lay low for awhile, especially since my last run-in with Gotham’s finest flying rodent -”

“It’s been a whole year!” she protested.

Why was he arguing with this little brat? "I was _flung_ in the air -“ 

”- and then Batman stopped the runaway bus using an empty tram car.“ She rolled her eyes, "Don’t worry, I heard it all. Girls at school were losing their panties over it.”

He’d had his finger raised and mouth open, ready to remind her not to ever dare interrupt him while he was speaking. His mouth snapped shut in puzzlement.

"Teenage girls like the Batman?” he found himself asking aloud. Images of the Bat on the cover of Teen Beat entered his mind, and he almost laughed. Almost.

She shrugged, getting an inkling that this new information was grinding his gears. “Sure, I mean lots of girls think he’s great. A bad boy type, ya know?”

An odd heat crept up the back of his neck at her words, although he was loathe to acknowledge it. "What do you think?“ he asked.

She shrugged again. "I think…he has a real strong jaw. Hard to tell what he looks like. That’s the whole point of a disguise right?” The girl lifted her eyes from the ground to look at him pointedly.

Unsure of what to say to that statement, he reached out and patted her on the back. "How about some pizza? My guy Joey’s got a place around the corner.“

She smiled shyly and nodded. So easy to please.

They left the alley and began the short walk toward the pizzeria.

"By the way, are you alright? Sounds like you got flung pretty far.”

The Joker just sniffed in response, ignoring her question and trying not to think about his very-probably-broken toe.

Joey’s was empty save for the two employees behind the counter, neither of which seemed alarmed or surprised by the appearance of one of the city’s most wanted men. While the Joker looked at the slices on display, she leaned idly against the counter.

“I wouldn’t lean against that,” he advised, still inspecting the pizzas.

She pulled back and looked down to find an oily stain on her light blue dress. Right across her left boob. Panicked over not letting the stain set in, she grabbed some napkins and tried in vain to scrub away the grime. She glanced up to see Joker glance over at her. Turning crimson, she spun around so her back was to him as she continued to scrub. The Joker chuckled and shook his head as the young waitress came to the counter.

“Sorry for the wait. What can I get ya?”

“Just two slices,” he said and slapped his palm on the counter as a way of finality.

She spun around, “Oh, I want a Coke, too!”

The Joker’s eyebrows raised and he licked his lips and she knew she was in trouble. “Is that how we ask?” 

“S-sorry Mr. J.”

He could have pushed her buttons further and play the “can you or may you” game, but he decided against it. They seated themselves at one of the rickety booths, the furthest from the serving counter and sat in silence for a moment. He could tell she was practically bursting with questions, and watching her struggle with which to ask first was quite entertaining.

“Are you gonna let me come with you?” Of course she chose that to ask.

He dodged her question. "I’m sure there’s things you wouldn’t wanna miss out on, right?“

The slices arrived then and she blew on hers while she thought for a moment. "Well…I guess prom might be fun. I hope.” Her eyes lit up then and she sat up, looking as if she’d just had the best idea ever.

“Mr. J, you should come with me to prom. Make a real splash!”

He laughed out loud and her face fell. She’d known it was a dumb idea, but a girl could dream, right?

“Sweetie,” he reasoned with her, “I’m a wanted criminal. I can’t go to prom with you.” The idea made him feel slightly sick, to be honest. All those greasy teens rubbing against one another, falling over from spiked punch. No.

She huffed, conceding and picking at the cheese on her paper plate. "Fine. I’ll probably just get stuck going with Darren.“

The Joker ripped half of his pizza crust off like a wild dog. "Who’s Darren?”

He barked like one too, she thought.

The Joker, of course, knew perfectly well who Darren was, because he’d had his men find out everything about the boy the first time the teen had walked her home from school. 

Unsure of what to make of the Joker’s reaction, she answered carefully, “He’s just a friend.”

“A…_boy_ friend?” He raised one eyebrow at her.

“Eck, no!” She shook her head. “I’m just not into him like that.”

The Joker placed his arms on the table, folded, and leaned forward a bit, his voice unusually quiet. "But he likes you?“

She didn’t answer, not wanting to lie.

"Looks at you just a second too long?” he continued, and started looking her up and down as a hungry dog would a steak. “Like _this_?”

Her collarbone felt hot. Her neck and ears felt hot. She felt faint and it was everything she could do to not cover her face in her hands in order to escape the situation.

He chuckled again and leaned back, checking his watch. "It’s late. Let’s get you home before your mom starts asking questions.“

"She’s not my mom,” she corrected as she scrambled out of the booth, eager for a change of topic.

“Fine, let’s get you home before Francine starts asking questions.” He rolled his eyes, thinking of the easiest way to…_monitor_ prom night.

Perhaps a visit to Darren might be in order.


	2. Bare Skin

She was woken from her slumber by a figure stumbling through the bedroom in the semi-dark, hopping as if they’d stubbed their toe. The neon glow from the digital clock by the bed cast an eerie green light over the Joker’s form as he crossed the room toward the closet. 2:49 AM.

She sat up yawning and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The Joker heard the bedside lamp click on and waved her off as he passed by, wearing only a towel, his green waves plastered against his head.

“Don’t worry, I’ll cover my ugly mug in a minute.”

She just stared as he disappeared behind the closet door. For the first time in the month she’d been staying at the hideout, he wasn’t wearing any face paint. All at once, she realized she’d never even thought about what he might look like underneath the ever-present mask.

Quickly and quietly, she rose from the bed they’d shared for the past week, resolutely staying on their own sides. When he actually slept, that is. She watched silently as he dug one handed through the heap of carelessly arranged garments, his other hand holding up the towel.

“No peeping,” he said without turning around. “Go to bed.”

He turned around a moment later, irritated to find her still standing there.

“What?” He asked, gesturing with the hand holding a pair of pajama pants. She realized, too late, that she’d been silently staring for too long. That probably sent the wrong message, and she felt a bit guilty.

“Nothing,” she shook her head and shrugged, shy. “I just. I wanted to see your face.”

He scoffed. “Well, now you’ve seen it, dollface. If you’ll kindly, uh, step aside?” He made to push past her, only to find she was still rooted to the spot. He growled and leaned down to pull the pajama pants up under the towel, discarding it on the floor. When he stood back to his full height, she was a step closer than before, closer than she’d normally care to be.

She raised a hand toward his face, wanting badly to feel the scar that split his upper lip, but thinking better of it and aiming for his brow. He pulled back as if startled, going still and watching her for a moment suspiciously. It was like trying to pet a wild animal. He relaxed, after a moment, and she reached out slowly to run the pad of her thumb over his thick brow.

She’d never noticed how sunken and gaunt his cheeks were, though she wasn’t surprised. He hardly ever ate; hardly ever made the time. He’d been shirtless in front of her on one previous occasion and she’d seen how his ribs jutted out from his rail thin frame.

The left side of his face drooped lower than the right, as if he’d suffered some sort of nerve damage. She’d never noticed it, under the paint, and she realized the disguise might serve more than one purpose for the Joker.

He was utterly captivating.

“You’re handsome,” she muttered, barely audible. She dropped her hand to his collarbone, over one of the many scars that adorned his upper half.

It was rare of her to sound unsure of herself; she tended not to have much of an inside voice or, unfortunately, a filter. Her unusual demeanor struck him, and he was quickly aware that she truly meant what she was saying. This angel found him, of all the demented monsters in the world, _handsome_. And she could have her pick of monsters and men alike.

A momentary bit of disgust rose in his throat, hot, before he quickly swallowed it back down and grabbed her hand from where it rest on his chest. His bright blue eyes bore into hers as he absentmindedly massaged between the fine bones of her much smaller hand.

“You know I’m not a responsible adult, right?” His voice was heavier than usual, its usually reediness dampened.

“Well, I mean…,” she trailed off as she looked around the bare, unkempt room and the pile of knives on the nearby dresser, “…yeah.”

He dropped her hand and held her delicate jaw, rubbing his calloused thumbs along her lips before leaning down to greet them with his own. Her fingers found his shoulders, squeezing his warm skin before snaking into his soft hair.

His warm tongue prodded her lips and she eagerly granted him access. A warm sensation settled below her stomach. He licked her tongue a final time and broke the kiss.

“Go to bed,” he repeated quietly, and she did as she was told, reluctant to let go of him. He joined her a few minutes later, and found that she’d decided that her half of the bed was now in the middle.


	3. In Bloom

You couldn’t ask for more perfect weather. Seventy degrees and sunny with a light breeze that blew at her sundress. Days like these were rare in Gotham, and she was pleased that the gorgeous day had coincided with their excursion.   
The Joker walked beside her, bare-faced in civilian clothing. The pair were returning from an errand in Gotham Heights, and blending in had been a necessity to avoid any undue hassle. The Joker’s shabby button down and slacks hadn’t exactly fit in with the fancy neighborhood, but they’d avoided attracting any undue attention. He hadn’t dyed his hair in quite awhile, leaving his hair the color of algae-filled water. _Lakewater brown_, she thought.

She’d practically begged him to let her tag along. He’d been planning on letting her join, but had feigned uncertainty just to enjoy watching her struggle to not appear too eager.

Now, they were walking back to the house in the Narrows, cutting through the park as a shortcut. She’d met him here at night, once, back when she’d made a habit of sneaking out of the bedroom window at her foster mother’s house. Come to think of it, that was probably the night that Darren had spotted her.

“Let’s sit,” he said suddenly, startling her out of her train of thoughts. He plopped down onto a bench along the path and crossed his long legs, patting the seat beside him. They sat in silence for a few minutes. He rested with his head back, his pale face to the sun, squinting despite his sunglasses. She silently regarded the ducks between snatching nervous glances at the man beside her. He smiled to himself as he felt her fidget beside him. She wanted his attention; he could practically feel it radiating from her skin. 

Finally, he felt a soft, trembling hand place itself on top of his. He allowed it, and waited. After another few minutes, she broke the silence, like popping a bubble. 

“Why won’t you let me kiss you again?” she asked in a rush. 

He sat upright, cracking his neck and turning to look at her. 

“I know I’m weird, but -”

Ah, yes. That little seed of self-consciousness he’d planted nearly a year ago had finally blossomed. He’d been wondering if it would take root. For most women, insecurity about their looks was the lowest-hanging fruit. She was different. If he’d suggested, maybe _so gently_ that perhaps she wasn’t looking that good, that maybe she was having an awkward _phase_…well, she might’ve laughed at him. This, though? She’d really taken it to heart when he’d pointed out that she was an orphan from a place most people hadn’t heard of and didn’t care a lick about. 

“But, I didn’t think you’d care about weird,” she finished, her eyes taking on a glossy texture. No, that wouldn’t do, he thought. He hadn’t intended to make her cry in public. Bad attention.

He sighed and leaned back against the bench again, snaking an arm around her shoulders. That ought to distract her enough to prevent any tears. The slightest little intake of breath, surprised and pleased with the sudden contact, proved him correct. 

Staring straight ahead, his eyes unreadable through his shades, he answered, “You’re just not ready. You’re too young.”

She huffed, clearly thinking his reasoning was ridiculous. “Too young for kissing?”

He flipped up the clip-on shades and looked her straight in the eyes. “Is that what you’re dreaming about, when you make those little noises at night? _Kissing_?” He waggled one eyebrow and gave her that grin, turning her face beet red. Great, now he knew she’d dreamed about him at night. It was hard not to, wrapped up together. Ever since he’d stopped wearing the greasepaint to bed it had been difficult to think of him as some slightly-terrifying, almost-otherwordly being. He was just a man, who trusted her to not cut his throat while he slept.

_Ding-ding! _ A bell cut through the moment, popping the bubble. A bike towing a small trailer full of flowers came to a halt in front of the pair. The elderly man aboard grinned widely and greeted them with a “Good afternoon!”

She really hoped this flower salesman was having a lucky day.

“A flower for your lovely daughter, sir?” he asked the Joker, gesturing to her.  
Enough time passed after the question was asked that she got nervous. Then the salesman got nervous, eyes filled with confusion.

“How about a tulip? A purple one,” the Joker finally requested as he reached into his back pocket for what she prayed was a wallet. 

When the Joker turned to her and handed her the tulip, time slowed for a moment. She thought of the legend of Farhad and Shirin, and the first tulip blooming from a drop of Shirin’s blood. Hopefully their legend didn’t end the same way.

On impulse, she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek. “Thank you so much Daddy, I love it!” 

She fell back into her seat, holding the flower and grinning at him defiantly. Neither noticed the elderly man as he drove away with a satisfied smile. 

It was all the Joker could do to keep his composure at the moment, and she wondered at the odd look on his face. She’d half expected him to react violently and push her off. She still expected him to have a fit once they got back to the house, sure that she’d be punished for her cheek. He looked like he was concentrating very hard, like a bolt of lightning had temporarily fried his circuits. If he’d been anyone else, she’d have waved a hand in front of his eyes and asked_ ‘Yoohoo? Anyone home?’_

He said nothing, and rose from the bench to continue back to the house. She scrambled after him, struggling to keep up with his long strides as she enjoyed the scent of tulips and sunshine.


	4. Kitten

The Joker had disappeared to do his regular mischievous activities the second they’d made it back to the house. It was late, now. She’d normally have been asleep by this time, but she’d found herself caught up in a book for the past several hours, unable to pull herself away.

The door to the bedroom swung open, pulling her from her hypnotic state and causing her to startle from her spot on the bed. The Joker crossed the room without looking at her and started emptying his pockets onto the top of the dresser. She tossed her book aside with a slight thud and made her way to the adjoining bathroom, leaving him muttering to himself about TNT. 

When she returned less than a minute later, she found him perched on the edge of the bed, bent down to take his shoes off. He looked up as she opened the bathroom door. Stark naked, and trying hard not to shake.

He paused to look at her for a few seconds before dropping his eyes as he removed his other shoe before setting them both aside. Sighing as he sat up, he rubbed the space between his eyes, smearing the paint. 

“You think _this_ is a good idea?” he chided, gesturing toward her nakedness with one hand, his wrist spinning in the air.

She affected an indignant look. “What?” she defended, “I can’t sleep naked?”

His face was unreadable as she approached him slowly, trying her best not to lose her nerve and sprint from the room. She knew, after her display in the park earlier, that she had some sort of reprimand coming. May as well go all in.

It was obvious to him that the routine was rehearsed, and he admired her absolute _gall_ as she crossed the room. He wouldn’t take the bait and answer her question. Not just yet.

“Mr. J,” she breathed as she came to a stop in front of him, their knees almost touching, “there’s never been anyone else. The last man who tried to touch me…Well, you saw what happened. I know you want this,” she said as she forced a smile and did a spin - an incomplete spin. Midway through, she felt herself being tugged harshly by her arm, her face suddenly facing the floor as a hand came sharply down on her ass. She cried out half in shock and half at the sting as his palm continually met her buttocks rapid-fire; she wondered if she’d have a bruise. Then, she was being flipped onto her back.

“You wanna play, little girl? Let’s play,” he snarled as he pinned her arms down to her sides with his knees, straddling her hips. She felt the heat of him covering her, and wondered if she’d maybe pushed him too far. It was everything she’d dreamed about since they’d met, since before she even knew just what she was dreaming about (birds and bees, and all that). But, in this moment, she was terrified.

As if reading her thoughts, he went calm and spoke evenly, “You’ve made your point.” He settled in closer, forcing eye contact as he asked her a question he knew she wouldn’t be able to answer. And her confusion would be the best answer of all.

“Tell ‘Daddy’ what you want,” he rubbed his nose against hers, leaving a trace of red paint behind. “Hm?”

Her mouth was desert-dry. “I - I -”

“You don’t even know, do you?” he laughed in her face. Mocking, cackling. “This is why you need me.” 

He shifted to insert one thigh between her legs and lean further over her. She felt the odd sensation of warm breath in her ear. It wasn’t unpleasant. Then, an overwhelmingly warm, wet feeling as he penetrated her ear with his tongue, caused her to call out in surprise. He chuckled, continuing to violently tongue her ear, her lower half instinctively seeking friction against his leg.

“Tell me what you feel,” he breathed into her ear, the air from his mouth now registering as cool against the wetness.

She stuttered again, “I-it…” 

He cut her off by biting her ear, not gently. “Pay attention.”

“Hot,” she finally answered, and almost lost concentration again as he began to work his thigh back against her. “Hot everywhere.”

_Interesting_, he thought. _Good enough_.

Without much preamble, his thigh was removed and replaced by one of his long fingers entering her. She cried out again, mostly from surprise. _Would it have killed him to warn her?_

Her indignation was short lived, ending when he inserted a second finger and curled them forward. “Look at me,” he insisted, still working her with his hand. 

She pried her eyes open, reluctantly, and looked at him. His eyes were locked on hers, and the intensity of it was too much, made her want to snap her eyes shut again. She didn’t dare.

“Do you touch yourself?”

Oh, God, had he really just asked her that? Her eyes, instead of snapping shut, went impossibly wide. Finally, she answered, simply, “Yes.”

“Does it feel like this?” he asked. She was quickly becoming suspicious that this was his twisted idea of dirty talk. 

Fine. She could work with that. “Not this good.” 

The growl that she was rewarded with supported her theory. It was true; it didn’t feel this good when she touched herself, and it felt very different. She wasn’t quite sure what, but she needed more of _something_, and raised her hips against his hand to seek it out. Taking note of the desperate increase in her movements, he slowed his rhythm, much to her protest. A very sweet protest that he’d love to hear again and again.

“Now, you’re probably not going to like what I’m about to do, at first, but the end result is what matters. I promise. And I’m a man of my word, right?” he nodded at her worried face. _ Didn’t she trust him, yet? He always kept his promises, good or bad. Mostly bad, but still._

He moved quickly down her body, pinning her hips to the mattress with his forearm, and worked his fingers against her sweet spot at a rapid speed. Her muffled, close-lipped utterances frustrated him further. He wanted, no, _needed_ her to let loose.

“Don’t hold it in kitten, let me hear you.”

She thought of how many henchman might be hanging out downstairs. How many random creeps might hear her. It must have shown on her face.

“It’s just you and me here,” he informed her, taking note of the color of her cheeks. The color of raspberry sorbet and nearly as sweet. Delicious. 

Finally, she let out a cry and he felt her struggle against his arm that pinned her down, seeking reprieve from the endless overwhelming stimulation. Then, he felt her clamp around his fingers and beautiful, sweet fluid flooded around his hand. He let out a long whoosh of air, and cracked the joints in his wrist as she scrambled to a sitting position, eyes wide.

“Oh my God, I - I’m _so sorry_,” her face was redder than it had been a moment ago and he had absolutely no idea why. Gals were odd, sometimes.

“…_What?_”

“I just…” she gestured toward his hand and made a sprinkling motion with her fingers. She was going to die of embarrassment, she was sure of it.

“…_And?_” he was honestly starting to get irritated and she wasn’t going to like the outcome.

Drawing a breath, she said, “I peed. On you. And I’m sorry.”

A deafening reel of laughter left him, then, nearly loud enough to shatter the windows. If he were anyone else she might’ve smacked him and stormed off, his glee adding to her mortification.

“If it was piss would I do this?” He brought his hand up to his face and licked from wrist to fingertip with the flat of his tongue. 

She shrugged. “I mean…maybe.”

Another burst of giggles left him and he smacked his thigh in enjoyment at her response. She really was a riot.

_Okay_, she thought, _apparently I didn’t pee on the Joker. That’s good news._

Curiously, she eyed his lap, but couldn’t tell from this angle if there was any bulge. She guessed (hoped) there was, and edged closer to him to find out.

“N-n-n-n-no,” he skitted away, standing up from the bed. 

“But don’t you want…ya know?”

“You’re not ready,” he insisted, much to her confusion. She’d always been taught that men only wanted sex if there was something in it for them. It just made sense. Unless -

“Does this mean you love me?” she asked, and immediately wished she could stuff the question back into her mouth.

Yet another, softer, fit of giggles met her ears. “Of course not,” he replied, as if she had told a ridiculous joke. He leaned down to kiss her forehead before pushing her roughly backward. “Now go to sleep.”


End file.
